Challenge
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Cyreese, Oneshot, ZA but AU. "Come over here and make me!" She had never challenged him before, and he wanted her to have just the reaction she wanted. He would give her anything she wanted. Set in the WFIT? world, though that's mostly for characterization and setting reference.


**AN: This is just a little Cyreese oneshot.**

 **It's set in the world of "What Future is There?" which is a Dixonne/Darchonne and Cyreese story (or the start of a saga, perhaps?). For the context of setting the scene, Dixonne is briefly mentioned here, but is not actually part of the oneshot. I wrote this not as a serious addition to the story or anything, but rather as just a oneshot to enjoy playing with the characters and to stretch my writing muscles. It doesn't take place at any particular moment, etc. I simply chose the world because it's a world that I dearly love and I greatly enjoy the Cyreese relationship within that world, so that's where I wanted to play with the characters.**

 **I own nothing from the Walking Dead.**

 **I don't think that many people (anyone?) actually reads Cyreese fanfiction, but if you do, I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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"Come over here and make me!"

There was laughter behind the challenge. The little giggle that came just after her voice rose higher. The sound of it sent a rush of warmth through Tyreese's chest and he laughed to himself.

A year ago, she wouldn't have said that to him. Not even in jest. Six months ago, even, she would have been afraid to challenge him.

Tonight, she said it with a laugh.

She would challenge nearly anyone—something that she'd grown into since he'd met her for the very first time—and she stood her ground pretty well. Though the woman was her best friend, and arguably something of a soulmate if such a thing existed in friendship, Carol would stand up to Michonne if she thought that a situation called for it. Even though many people in the community somewhat cowered in the presence of Michonne—the woman whom they saw as almost something like a queen—Carol didn't cower in her presence.

Tyreese had seen them, once, even go a few rounds of fighting with one another when an argument got out of hand. They had made up quickly, but he—along with Daryl and several other community members—had been there to witness the fury of both women as they clashed with each other.

And Carol hadn't backed down.

As the person responsible for making sure that all things related to their domestic welfare were taken care of, Carol was an important asset to the community—even if she often forgot such a detail or even if people sometimes forgot to give credit where credit was due. Because of her position, she practically ran her own little working branch in the community as well. Everyone had a job to do, every day, and if someone didn't know their job, then it was only because they hadn't stopped by headquarters to ask Carol what it was, exactly, that they should be doing.

She had no problem telling all of them where they should go or what they should be doing to make sure that everything that needed to be done in a day got accomplished in the most efficient way possible.

And even if a few of them tried to challenge her rightfully earned authority, she never backed down to them, either. She simply stood her ground and, so far, she'd outlasted them all. Tyreese had never known anyone to leave with an assignment from Carol that they didn't complete. It might be accomplished with plenty of grumbling, of course, but it was accomplished nonetheless.

Carol had changed a great deal since the first time that Tyreese had met her in a revamped prison outside of Atlanta. She'd changed a great deal, even, since the first night they'd settled in their community. She was different from the woman he'd first considered, from a distance, starting a relationship with after Michonne had suggested that it might not be such a crazy idea, and she was different from the woman that he'd once tried to seduce over sweetened condensed milk.

Still, for all the changes—wonderful and welcomed changes—that he'd seen in her, and for how bold she could be toward everyone else, Carol would never challenge Tyreese. Not even in jest.

He'd tried to push her into playful games with him, from time to time, where she might be forced to take some sort of dominant role, but she had shied away from them. Sometimes she'd gotten so close to shutting down that he'd retreated as quickly as he could to keep from undoing any progress that they'd made. He wanted her to feel safe with him. He wanted her to feel safe enough with him that she could explore her dominance. The last thing he wanted to do was force her into a position that scared her or, in some other way, stripped her of the power that she'd already found within herself.

He could patient with her. He could be infinitely patient with her if that's what she needed.

He understood why she reacted the way that she reacted. It was cruel and it was unfair, but her ex-husband had taught her submission in the most brutal ways that he could. He'd worked long and hard to break her body and her spirit. He hadn't broken her, but he'd most assuredly damaged her. It wasn't damage that would heal overnight.

And though she was starting to come out of the shell that he'd forced her into, and though she was starting to tear down some of the walls that she'd built to protect herself from him, she couldn't tear it all away at once and leave herself exposed to everything—not after the work she'd put into building it.

She was testing her strength elsewhere and, finding that she did indeed possess it, she was growing more confident in herself. Challenging Tyreese, though, was clearly the most terrifying possible challenge for her. It wasn't, of course, that Tyreese posed any particular threat to her or that he would ever hurt her—because he would never dream of treating her any way other than the loving way in which she deserved to be treated—but, rather, it was because of the position that he occupied.

He was stepping, physically, into the position that her ex-husband, Ed, had once filled and, therefore, he was the greatest reminder of what she had suffered before. He was the greatest reminder that someone—someone who Tyreese would have gladly beaten to death a thousand times for what he'd done—had taken from her the confidence, dignity, and self-worth that she'd had at the time and had left her to slowly find it once again.

Despite the extreme differences between Tyreese and Ed, and despite the fact that Carol did love and trust Tyreese, the position that he occupied made it hard for her to completely trust that he would never react violently toward her and that he would never treat her any way that she didn't want to be treated. She wanted to trust him, but she was still learning to actually let it happen.

Tyreese didn't take it personally, even though he hoped, every single day, that the new day would be the day that she trusted him entirely.

Tonight, it seemed she was ready to challenge him—even if the challenge was small and had very low-stakes.

She was ready to see how he reacted to a challenge—even a teasing one such as this.

What would he do? Would he respond to it good naturedly, or would he respond to it negatively? He could almost feel the challenge crackling in the air of the living room.

She watched him from the table, expectantly, with her tongue caught between her teeth and her mouth frozen in a semi-smile. Her reading glasses were perched on the end of her nose, and the work she'd been pouring over for hours in the light of the oil lamp was still in her hands. She hadn't moved. She was watching him. She was waiting to see what he would do.

He didn't even have to think about it. He would meet her challenge, but he would make sure that she saw that he could have fun with it. He would make sure that she saw that she could have fun with him.

Michonne and Daryl were asleep. Their daughter, Hope, was tucked into bed upstairs in the nursery with Judith—who was practically Carol and Tyreese's daughter, even though she wasn't related to the by blood. The household was asleep because it was late and everyone rose early in the community. There was always work to be done.

Carol was one of the earliest risers. She would be out the door hours before anyone else rose. She would have breakfast ready over a fire she built herself before most of the community had pulled themselves, grumbling and moaning like Walkers, from their beds. That was why it didn't make sense that she'd be up burning the literal and figurative midnight oil hand-sewing the tears and rips in clothing that didn't even belong to her while she ruined her eyes for people who, though they appreciated her, would never appreciate her as completely as Tyreese did. And, if she was going to stay up late, he'd rather she spent that time with him.

He would always have preferred that she spend any of her extra time with him.

That was what had led him to tell her—in the slightly gruff voice that he sometimes purposefully put on to desensitize her to it since he first noticed she jumped when she heard it—that it was time she put that work away and come to bed.

And she had challenged him.

"Come over here and make me!"

She'd giggled. It was a soft giggle. Her laughter, to Tyreese, was almost musical and it always gave him the sensation of a warm rush of emotion in his chest.

She was looking at him now, expectantly, and he didn't want to disappoint her. He had to react to her first challenge. More than that, he had to react in a way that would teach her that she could challenge him more, in the future, whether those challenges were serious or trivial. He had to react in a way that taught her that his reactions would be pleasant for her.

He fully intended for the challenge to turn out pleasant for her.

Tyreese got up and quickly crossed the living room toward Carol. She squeaked out a sound of alarm and Tyreese noticed her muscles stiffen even though she did her best to hide the reaction. The muscles in his chest contracted, too, at the sight her nervousness showing itself. He could retreat, back away, and let it drop, but he didn't want to. He wanted to teach her that this was fine. He was playing. Her challenge was fine and he could tease with her. She could tease him.

She would be safe and this would be good.

When he reached her, Tyreese grabbed her by the arm. He was careful to do so gently, and he waited while she accepted that he wasn't going to do anything to genuinely hurt her.

"Stand up, Carol," he said. "Let's go to bed."

"I've got—a whole basket to do," Carol said.

"It'll be there in the morning," Tyreese said.

"There will be more to do in the morning," Carol offered.

The smile hadn't disappeared entirely from her face. In fact, the smirk had renewed itself where it had temporarily faded when he'd first grabbed her arm. She was relaxed, now, with his hands around her upper arm. He could see the challenge and the amusement in her eye.

She wasn't sure what was going to happen, but she was hoping to enjoy it. He would make sure that she did.

He tugged her enough to convince her to come to her feet.

"There will always be more to do," Tyreese said. "Especially around here. But you can put the world down for tonight, Atlas. It'll be there in the morning."

Carol smiled at him more sincerely. She deposited her work on the table. Tyreese reached up and gently removed the reading glasses that she'd been wearing to lessen the strain on her eyes. There were at least a dozen pair stashed throughout the house and at least three in their bedroom. He folded them and put them on the table.

"Come to bed," Tyreese said.

Carol smiled at him softly and raised her eyebrows at him.

"Make me," she said. This time her voice was softer. There was less humor in it. There was a depth to it, though, that sent a shiver from the back of Tyreese's neck down to the base of his spine. His pulse picked up in response in the most wonderful way possible. He smiled to himself, nodded his head, and leaned over to blow out the oil lamp.

Once the lamp was out, the living room was bathed in almost complete darkness. The only light left burning was the lamp on the small table at the top of the stairs. It was the last light that any of them blew out, and it was rarely blown out before a bedroom lamp had been lit.

Carol stood there, hands on her hips, and stared at Tyreese without moving. He knew her well enough to feel her expression, even if he couldn't see it. He brushed a hand over her cheek and ran his fingers through the hair at her temple. She didn't flinch away from his touch. She'd trusted that it would be tender. He leaned and pressed his lips to hers. She responded sweetly and with a gentle hunger that Tyreese could have never explained, but it made him feel like the most desired man in the world.

"Alright," he said, leaning close to her ear. "I told you—let's go to bed."

Carol laughed quietly. It came out as barely more than an exhalation of breath and then she sighed.

"Make me," she responded, blowing the words out at him. "If that's what you want, Ty? Then—make me."

The shiver ran through him once more. This time he felt the reaction throughout his body, though, crackling like electricity. He might have doubted it before, but he knew it this time. She was making a request of him. She wanted to see his reaction.

And he wanted her to have just the reaction that she wanted. He would, after all, give her anything she wanted.

Tyreese slipped an arm behind her and she wrapped her arms around his neck without him making any such request of her. She laughed quietly and rested her face against his shoulder as he scooped her up.

"I'm going to be too heavy to carry upstairs," she warned.

"Shhh..." Tyreese hissed, swallowing back his sheer enjoyment of the moment. "You're heavier when you argue with me, and I've already told you, we're going to bed."

Carol sighed, but the light laugh at the end of it convinced Tyreese that there was no negative feeling behind it. As he made his way across the living room and toward the stairs, Carol curled herself into him and he smiled to himself when he felt her rub her face affectionately on his shirt. It was clear she genuinely approved to his answer to her challenge.

"I guess," she said, "I'll let you win. This time."


End file.
